


How to fall properly

by Bloody Red Bird (Alexanderrrrr)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, first kiss for both of them, fluster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexanderrrrr/pseuds/Bloody%20Red%20Bird
Summary: Story about the two idiots raising Warlock. And some discussion on the end of the world.





	1. Good Morning

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”

It was the starter of all.

#

“Ashy,” cried the little Warlock. “Look what I found in the garden!”

The little Warlock had spent his day in garden exploring the garden, while Nanny Ashtoreth followed him around idly, with a black umbrella to shield her from the bright summer sun.

“What have you found, sweet heart?”

Warlock run toward her excitedly, but awkwardly, since he was holding out both of his arms before him while running through half the garden. Nanny Ashtoreth looked at Warlock with contentedly, the boy was completely messy, with muddy shoes and dirty wet clothes. He even got some scratch. She was so proud. The boy hold out his tiny little clenched fists to Nanny Ashtoreth, who bowed down slightly to have a better look.

“Look.” Warlock whispered, as if he was afraid to startle what was in his fist.

“What isss it?” Nanny Ashtoreth hissed happily.

“It’s brother frog. I caught it myself.” Warlock examined his fist. “I can’t show him to you, or he’ll jump away, but he’s green, and very small.” He then loosed his fist a little bit and peeped through his fingers.

“Let me find you a box, so you could put him inside.”

Nanny Ashtoreth pushed him slightly in the back to guide him indoors.

“What are you going to do with it?” 

“Bother Francis said that I should let him go back home.”

“You talked with Brother Francis?”

“Yeah, he was sitting behind the walls reading books.” Warlock was a little worried. “He told me not to tell anybody.” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody either.” Nanny Ashtoreth said in a sing-song tone. They entered the door and went to kitchen.

“Now where is the milk bottle from the morning…...Ah, here you are!”

Nanny Ashtoreth hold the small glass bottle in her hands.

“Now we have to be very carefully, my dear, or brother frog is gonna run away.” Warlock nodded with the gravity of a 6 years old. “Now loose your fist slightly. I’ll put the rim around…...oh.”

A tiny green frog climbed through from between the fingers. It took him a minute to look around before jumping on a nearby table. Warlock yelled out of surprise and panic. It took him a morning, three tripping and a scratch on the arm to catch the frog. He even walked into the fountain for it and got wet feet. Now the frog is lose in the house, he could sneeze behind the closet, or hide under the fridge, and he could never catch him again, and the great plan he had for brother frog…... 

Nanny Ashtoreth quickly put the bottle rim around the frog.

“Gotcha!” Nanny Ashtoreth declared proudly before seeing the red light glittering behind the green frog’s eyes. It was only a mere second, but there could be no mistake of that hellish red eyes. Her smile froze, meanwhile little Warlock was jumping and chanting:

“Ashy caught the frog! Ashy, Ashy, ASHY!”

“Hush! Dearie.” Nanny Ashtoreth cooed. “Could you run and fetch Brother Francis real quick? Tell him to wait me at the porch.”

“Yes, Ashy.”

Nanny Ashtoreth wait until the front door slammed shut. Then she smirked at the frog in the bottle. The frog stared back.

“Checking on our young master, Hastur? I was wondering what kind of a stupid frog could be caught by a 6-years-old.”

“It’s my cover-up to sneak into the house, and it worked perfectly well.” Hastur said, still in frog form.

“I suppose so, considering you’re now trapped in a bottle.”

“Don’t get cocky, Crowley.” Hastur snapped. “When I return Down There and do my report, it will be the end of you. I’ve been watching you for a week already, and I see all the _ good _ you’re up to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Crowley tensed and quickly reviewed the past week in his mind. Everything had be normal, except on Wednesday they had to cancel a picnic in the garden because it was raining. Warlock had been pouting all afternoon. He was suddenly thankful for that rain. He didn’t know what would Hastur make of if he saw him and Brother Francis go out picnicking, not that he knew the true identity of the angel……

“Despite all the brilliant report you made, I have to come up and have a look for myself, and I’m sad to say, the boy was not evil at all.” Hastur shook his head. “Spending all day climbing trees and stealing bird eggs and fruits. The boy was far too happy, in my opinion.”

“Is that what you think?” Crowley said coldly. 

“Yes, and I’m sure Below would agree with me and send a more competent supervisor.”

“In that case, you must have notice that our young master is very fond of catching wild animals. Let me tell you why, as you’re about to face the same fate.” How dare anyone question his competency? “Since you’ve been dwelling in the pond, it must have skipped your notice that. Well, I’ll put it simple and plain. Our young master is quite fascinated by the science of anatomy. He wants to be a surgeon when he grows up. How sweet and evil is that, don’t you think?”

Nanny Ashtoreth smiled sweetly, waiting for the desired effect.

“What does that mean, the science of anatomy?”

“It often involved cutting open the living creatures to observe the function of internal organs, and to achieve that, the observed creature must be kept alive during the operation.” Crowley was glad to see Hastur turned pale. What an extraordinary fool.

“I’m sorry, Hastur, but anything for our young master.”

“You can’t be serious, Crowley.”

“What can I do? For him you’re just an ordinary frog.”

Crowley slipped a piece of paper between the bottle rim and the table, and scooped Hastur into the bottle. He covered the rim and shook the bottle merrily. 

The front door opened, followed by the sound of footsteps.

“That must be our young vicious master! Now, I’ll have to prepare him a needle.” 

“What’s that for?”

“He’ll stick it between your eyes and paralyzed your neural system. So you won’t feel a thing.”

“No.” Hastur clung to the glassy wall and looked at Crowley in the eyes. He looked almost pathetic. “You can’t do this.”

“I can’t, but his our master’s son. There’s no way I could say no to him.”

The footsteps are growing louder.

“Are you shaking, Duke Hastur?”

Hastur just looked toward the door. Red light shined bright behind Hastur’s eyes. Crowley knew he was in the dilemma of whether to suffer the cruelty of children or the endless nagging from the bureau for discorporating himself. 

“You know, it’s always possible for me to broke the bottle by accident, giving that I’m so incompetent.” Crowley reclined lazily on the table. Hastur shoot him a look.

“The child is awefuly evil. You have my word.”

“What about me?” Crowley glared.

“Don’t push your luck.”

#

Brother Francis was cleaning up little Warlock in the bathroom. Nanny Ashtoreth never denied the boy anything. It seemed that her ultimate goal was to spoil the boy entirely, but Brother Francis thought that a little bit discipline would help. He started with tidying up the boy, who looked like a new person after changed into fresh clothing.

"Here you go, Warlock." Brother Francis carefully dried the boy's hair with towel, which was soaking wet with sweat. He might catch a cold. He'll have to have a word with the nanny.

"Can I show you my frog now, Brother Francis?"

"Not until I comb your hair. Now sit still. Here's a tangle. Tell me if you're hurt."

_ CLANG! _

Warlock sit straight. Something was broken. It was from the kitchen. 

"My frog!" Warlock jumped up and stopped when his hair was caught by the comb. "Ouch!"

"Sorry!" Brother Francis quickly untangled the comb. "Walk. Don't run. Watch out for your feet. There might be broken glasses on the floor."

But before he could finish the sentence, Warlock had ran straight to the kitchen. When Brother Francis made it, he saw Warlock pouting at the entrance of the kitchen, while Nanny Ashtoreth apologizing in the debris of glasses.

"I'm sorry. I slipped. We'll catch another frog. I promise. And don't come any closer."

"When?" 

"Later. I promise."

"I was going to put it in Mammy's drawer. She will be home by 6." Warlock was on the verge of tears.

"I know, and I'm so proud of you." Neither of them could walk through the floor of broken glasses, but Nanny Ashtoreth held out her arms, as if she could comfort Warlock through mid air.

"Let's go to the park later, not just in the garden."

"But Mommy said---"

"Don't listen to her, you listen to me."

"Really!" Warlock yelled. "Let's go on a picnic, and I want ice cream!"

"Good. Now go pack your stuff."

Warlock ran away to his bedroom.

Aziraphale looked at both of them with loving eyes. Despite Crowley's effort to make the child as evil as possible. The student seemed to be unable to surpass the master. All he does was doing some mischief. Well, actually he once asked the nanny if he could steal something. Nanny Ashtoreth was so pleased, until it turned out it was a stray cat he wanted to steal, although it had a collar on. He had been feeding the little thing his breakfast for days and had made friend with it. The cat was adopted by the neighbor, because Mrs. Dowling was allergic to cat.

_ How could he fall? _ Aziraphale wondered.

"Alright, then." Crowley sighed, then he saw Aziraphale. "Would you fetch me a broom so I could clean up this mess?"

"Sure thing, Ashy." 

"Don't call me Asssshy, you ssstupid gardener."

Aziraphale smiled and snapped his fingers. The glasses disappeared. Crowley was mildly surprised.

"I really got carried away with the acting, I think." Crowley muttered. "I forgot I was a demon."

  



	2. A Picnic at St. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They promised Warlock to go picnicking, and so they did.

They decided to have a picnic and St. James Park. Nanny Ashtoreth packed all three of them a hearty lunch. They sat in the shadows of trees by the pond, where grass was thick and soft, and there was cool winds blowing from the water.After dispatching Warlock to feed the ducks, Crowley drew a bottle of red wine from under the biscuits. He poured both of them a cup.

“Cheers.” Crowley said gloomily and drank the wine in three gulps. Aziraphale had been watching him all afternoon. He didn’t eat much, or talk much, and he only smiled when talking to Warlock. Something was wrong. 

“What’s on your mind?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley didn’t said anything. He just looked miserably at Warlock feeding ducks. The boy was trying to pat the ducks. When the ducks ran away, he lured them back with bread, and the cycle continued.

“Is it easy for you to, uh.” To Aziraphale’s astonishment, Crowley was embarrassed. “To thwart me?”

“Why would you ask that?” Aziraphale panicked. The question seemed to have something to do with his dignity, but Aziraphale didn’t know which answer does he want. Crowley was very sensitive about the reason he fell, and he once argued angrily that not all demons are bad, but on the other hand, he also took pride in his demonic achievement and enjoyed criticizing his fellow-demons for their lack of efficiency in collecting souls.

Crowley was looking at him attentively, the lips thinner with every delayed second of answer. Aziraphale decided to play safe.

“It’s not a question of easy or not. We have the Arrangement, remember?” 

“I know, but---”

“As for this child, it would be best if the influences of good and evil could even out.”

"Yeah, sure." Crowley muttered. “Silly of me.”

Then Crowley fell silence. Aziraphale sensed that he must have given the wrong answer.

“You have always been a most terrible enemy.” Aziraphale pat his hand in black silky glove, but Crowley drew back his hand and muttered: “You are just being nice.”

“I’m an angel. I cannot lie.” Aziraphale said, and technically, he didn’t, since he had never face other demons, so there's no comparison. 

Crowley gave an unconvinced_ Hum _ and poured himself another cup of wine.

“You drink too much on an empty stomach.” Aziraphale chided softly.

“What do you think of Warlock, then?” Crowley asked. “Evil?”

Aziraphale looked at the boy, who had successfully caught a duck.

“Sure.” 

“What for? Chasing ducks?” Crowley gulped down the drink. “Never thought that you have it in you to lie to a demon.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Aziraphale hissed under his breath, since Warlock is running toward them with the wretched duck. Aziraphale quickly hid the wine bottles.

“Look what I caught, Ashy!” Warlock yelled happily. His expression changed when he saw the nanny's expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my darling boy.” Nanny Ashtoreth forced a smile. “What a beautiful duck you’ve caught! How lovely!”

Warlock hesitated, then he sat down, holding the duck.

“Were you angry with me?” The boy asked worriedly. “Because I yelled at you.”

“No, why would I-----”

“Brother Francis told me that I shouldn’t yell at you, and it was very dangerous to break a glass bottle, and you broke one in the morning.”

Aziraphale hold his breath. He told Warlock these stuff while Crowley preparing sandwitches. He had never regretted anything more in six thousands years. He sneaked a look at Crowley. It’s very difficult to tell people’s expression when they’re wearing sunglasses, but Aziraphale knew him well. To his surprise, Crowley looked a bit touched, but also a bit annoyed, and above all, he looked extremely happy and sad beyond measure at the same time. 

“Did you cut your finger when breaking the glass?” Warlock asked.

"No." Nanny Ashtoreth twisted her finger anxiously.

“Do you like this duck, then?”

It was a beautiful snowy-white duck, even at this moment it was pecking at Warlock’s hand irritatedly. Its wide feet were the colour of butter. Its feather warm and fluffy.

“Yes, it’s lovely.” She was a bit confused, however, didn't know what the boy was thinking.

“You can have it, then.” Warlock said, and he shoved the duck onto nanny’s lap. The white duck settled on her lap peacefully.

“She likes you.” Warlock observed.

_ Of course she does. _ Aziraphale thought. _ All the ducks in St.James Park know us by face. _

“And it’s alright if you lost her, because I’ve given her to you. But it would be better if you could give her back before you lost her again.”

That’s it. Nanny Ashtoreth gave a suppressed sob before rising up and walked away. The white duck fell to the ground and decided to follow the nanny, which only spited her more.

“Go away. You stupid duck.” Nanny Ashtoreth yelled at the duck. She was a bit drunk, plus wearing high-heeled, making her walk unbalanced and swaying, which was a bit like the way the duck walks. The two sauntered away.

“Have I done something wrong.” Warlock asked.

“Apologizing is a noble and brave thing, my dear child.” Brother Francis said. “It’s just that people seldom showed her kindness, so she’s sad.”

“Why?” Warlock asked.

_ It’s a good question. _ Aziraphale mused, bu he just said:

“Let’s go after her before she lost herself.”

#

Crowley stumbled through the uneven ground and cursing his high-heeled. The white duck was still following him.

“Go away!”

“Quack?” The duck looked up at him expectedly, as if he would throw it some bread crumb. 

“Fuck off!”

Crowley rolled his eyes and went faster. The duck persisted behind him. Crowley started to run, or rather, to move as fast as possible when grabbing his dress and avoiding small ditches and mounds. Crowley looked back. The duck had opened its wings and was flying. Before he could curse he was tripped and rolled down a gentle slope. He tried to yell but his mouth was then filled with grass and all he could manage was a muffled “Uh!”

It was a gentle slope. One might think it would be easy to stop the rolling, but no. As you rolled down, you gained velocity along the way, so if you missed the first few second you missed the opportunity and were doomed to roll all the way down. This is what happened to Crowley.

The world became a successional change of sky and earth, light and darkness. A dizzy blur. The grass was thick and soft, so he didn’t rolled over any rock and get hurt, but it also made the rolling even faster. In panic, Crowley tried to stop himself by grabbing literally anything and got a couple handful of grass. 

As the slope ended, the rolling slowed down, and finally stopped. Crowley immediately sat up---because it was so fucking embarrassing--- but only to fall down again, because of the dizziness. He waited for the spinning to stop, a throbbing pain was coming from his left ankle, but he was too upset to do anything about it.

“Quack?”

Crowley opened his eyes and found the sky was blocked by an enormous duck head looking down on him curiously. The duck nestled by him after finding him alive. He could feel its warmth. He drew the duck into his embrace and said miserably: 

“Even you find me nice, huh?”

“Quack!” The duck affirmed confidently.

Crowley reviewed his conversation with Hastur in the morning. He had tricked the Duke of Hell, he should be glad, to deceive and outwit a fellow-demon. It undoubtedly proved his competency, but all he could remember was what Hastur said:

_ You are not evil, Crowley, you are not one of us. _

Well. Actually, it’s not what Hastur said. He never said such a thing but simply refused to call him evil, saying that it was too much an insult, but it’s the same, isn’t it? Others would never treat him with respect, despite his excellent field work, despite his many years of experience, despite his familiarity with human beings, demons like Hastur would always treat him like shit, because he is not evil enough.

It’s not that he want a promotion or something. He never wanted to leave the post, he loved this jog. He loved earth. He loved Az...rrangement. He just wants to be recognized, to be admired, to be liked, by others.

At least Aziraphale liked him. Sometimes he was even shocked by his profound evilness. How nice of him.

His vision blurred. He fell because he was not good enough an angel, he was disrespected because he was not evil enough a demon. They are probably right. Tears rolled down. Hot against his cheeks. When will it stop? Crowley wiped his face with soft black cotton dress. The white duck was humming softly.

From a distance a child was calling:“Aaashy. Aaaashyyy”

Warlock. He sounded worried. What a good kid. He would surely missed him afterwards, although he's also prove of one of his unevilness, but that was his and angel's ultimate goal, so he shouldn't be upset.

Another voice, louder and closer: “AAAAaaashyyy.”

It’s the fucking angel, he told him a thousand times not to call him that. 

“Don’t call me that, angel!” Crowley shouted. He tried to stand up, only to stumble to the ground again when pain shot from his left ankle. "Ouch!"

“She’s over here.” Aziraphale yelled from above the slope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many kudos. I'm crying. I never thought so many people would like it. I was so happy I can't stop smiling last night.  
I have something I want to write yet, but I didn't have a very clear plan, so sorry in advance if the plot turned out to be loose-threaded, but I'll so my best to avoid it.


	3. A Duck of the St. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter Crowley rolled down a slope because he was chased by a duck.

Warlock ignored Brother Francis’ yelling and hopped down the slope like a rabbit. When Brother Francis finally made it down hill, Warlock had been examining Nanny Ashtoreth’s foot.

“You sprained your ankle.” Warlock said seriously. “See, it’s swelling.”

“My dear boy, don’t be so sure. Let me have a look.” 

Before Aziraphale could do anything, Crowley said tiredly:

“Yeah, angel. I sprained my ankle.” 

“Quack!” The duck quacked from Crowley’s lap.

“See? He agreed.”

“You stupid.” Aziraphale said slowly. “If only I could snap my fingers and heal you.” 

The moment Aziraphale said it he regretted. Crowley’s jaw dropped, realizing what a fool he had been, meanwhile Warlock was adding helpfully: “Mommy sprained her ankle once, too, because she was wearing high-heels when running, because a moth was chasing her. I caught the moth single-handedly. Another time Mommy sprained her ankle because she weared high-heels to hiking, but she didn’t know that we were going hiking. Papa said it’s called the life of an ambassador. So I’m an expert on spraining. Now we need to carry her home.”

The last sentence successfully caught both their attention.

“What?” Nanny Ashtoreth yelled.

“Oh, dear.” Brother Francis said, not unhappily.

“It’s the only way.” Warlock said firmly. “That’s what Papa did. I’m an expert.”

Aziraphale didn’t mind carrying Crowley, but it seemed that he didn’t want to be carried by him.

“I’m not going to be carried by you!” He hissed aggressively.

Aziraphale just knelt by his side, gazing gently at him. He didn’t said a word, but angels had this specific kind of power, that their mere presence was enough to soothe a worried soul. Crowley glared back at first, but he couldn’t held eye contact. Aziraphale had such a pair of blue eyes. They reminded him of the clear sky early in the morning, or the sunny sea in the summer afternoon. Peaceful and calm.

Crowley looked down at his lap and found himself grabbing at the skirt unknowingly. Daftly he loosened his fingers and evened out the wrinkled clothes with a fake confidence. With eyes closed he hold out his arms to Aziraphale:

“Just help me up first.”

Aziraphale pulled him up. Before Crowley could shift his weight to the right feet, he found himself fell forwards into Aziraphale’s arms. Duck dropped to the ground.

“Here we go.”

Aziraphale bent down, put his left arm behind both his knees, and lifted him up in the air.

“Ah!” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you.”

Aziraphale carried Crowley firmly in the arms. He tried not to look at him, since it made Crowley uneasy. He was slim and light, so Aziraphale carried him easily. 

“Let’s go back and pick up the lunch basket.” He said to Warlock. To Crowley he whispered: “Dearie do please loosen your arms, I’m choking to death.” 

He hold him even harder and burried his face on his shoulder.

“I’m slipping down.” He said into his neck.

“No, I’m holding you.” 

“I’m falling.”

“Don’t---Stop twisting, and could you tidy up your hair? They are all hanging on my face. It’s very itchy.”

“Good.”

If Aziraphale knew that Hastur had visited in the morning and that Crowley was having an existential crisis, he probably still wouldn’t be able to recognize the relevance of the two events, because truth be told that was a bit far-fetched. That’s the thing with existencial crisis, however. If you have one, literally everything could trigger it, even making sushi. Criticizes from peers and exclusion were sufficient cause and excuse. Imagine all the fun Crowley had missed in Hell, because he was up on the Earth, alone.

Aziraphale never had an existential crisis. (What he had is just pressure, pressure from himself, mainly.) Still he gathered that Crowley was upset because he sucked at his job, because Warlock was amazingly nice and lovely, but Warlock had been so for ages, so over all he didn’t understand why Crowley was suddenly making a fuss all over this. 

Maybe it’s the sprained ankle. It must be.

“Alright.” Aziraphale oozed. “Now let’s take Warlock home, so you can call an early day off and fix your ankle. Does it hurt a lot?” 

“Just a little bit. It only hurt when I treid to move it.”

“Wait. I got an idea.” Aziraphale gasped and blink his eyes. “I should come up with it earlier.”

The pain disappeared. Crowley looked at his ankle, the swelling had gone as well. He reached out a hand and carefully touched it. It doesn’t hurt.

“You fixed it? What if Warlock found out?”

Aziraphale smirked. “That’s why you’re going to stay in my arms for the rest of the day, and you’re not going anywhere without me.”

“Let me go!” Crowley struggled, but only half-heartedly.

“Don’t you start again, Ashy.”

Crowley glared at him, but Aziraphale just smiled happily and hold him a little tighter, as if to tease him.

#

Warlock had been folding the picnic blanket unsuccessfully, because the white duck kept diving under it. When it’s not making trouble, it tried to stole biscuits from the basket.

“What are we going to call him?” Warlock asked.

“You can’t take him home, dear.” Nanny Ashtoreth said. “He’s a duck of the park.”

“But he likes me.”

“I think he just likes the biscuit.” Nanny Ashtoreth said, but a little unsure. The duck was rubbing its face against little Warlock, making the boy giggled and tumbled over several times. 

Brother Francis joined in. “If you take him home, he will never be able to see his family and friends, because they all live here.”

“We could take the duck here every time we come picnicking, so he could visit them.”

“But he would be lonely in the house, because there’s no other duck.”

Warlock sat down, hold the duck on his lap, and started to pout.

“But I like him.”

“Here, sweetheart.” Nanny Ashtoreth held out her arms. Brother Francis put her onto the grass, but Warlock simply stayed where he was.

“Okay, you can pet the duck.” Nanny Ashtoreth said, to Brother Francis’ surprise. “But, only if you and duck could pass the test.”

“The test?”

“Later, we are going to take a cab and go home. You could name the duck, if the duck is willing to follow us across the park, into the cab, and finally, home.”

“Alright.” Warlock nodded. “I already decided what I’m going to call him.”

Nanny Ashtoreth wondered what was it.

“However, before we start,” she took a biscuit from the boy’s pocket, and his face dropped. “You have to give all our biscuits to that family over there.”

Warlock looked at the nanny in panick, but he quickly calmed down.

“I have one condition.” He exclaimed. “I decide who I want to give my biscuits to, and I give them myself. You don’t follow me.”

“Sure, I don’t think there’s a problem.” Brother Francis pondered.

“Don’t you try to trick me.” Nanny Ashtoreth threatened.

Warlock went off alone with the basket full of biscuits. The duck followed him. They watched him from afar.

“Don’t wondered off!” Nanny Ashtoreth yelled. Warlock yelled back in respond.

“What do you think he’s up to?” Brother Francis asked.

“Hiding a few other biscuit in the pocket, maybe, or in the socks, when he got back I’ll find them all.”

They sat side by side together.

“If I own that stupid duck,” Nanny Ashtoreth said. “I’m going to name him ‘angel’.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. It suit him perfectly. He’s white and fluffy, and he liked biscuits.”

“If I own the duck, I’ll call him Anthony.”

“I saw this one coming. It’s not as good as mine though. I don’t see why the duck has anything to do with the name ‘Anthony’.”

Brother Francis rolled his eyes. “Childish.”

“What do you think he’s going to name it?”

“Snowy, or Fluffy? Those are common name.”

When Warlock came back, it was a complete nightmare. Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis searched him up and down, and they couldn’t find a single crumb of biscuit, but that’s impossible, because Warlock  _ smelled  _ of biscuit. The smell of butter surrounded him like a magic bubble. Everyone could smell it from him ten meters away, ducks, ten miles, perhaps, because they were gathering from all over the place while the three of them crossing the park. They eventually have to run to the gate where the cab parked and hurried into it, before rain of ducks falling upon them.

“You can’t rub biscuit onto yourself.” Nanny Ashtoreth yelled while being carried into the car. Brother Francis couldn’t talk from all the panting. He carried her all the way long. 

“Only I didn’t.” The boy smiled from ear to ear, holding the white duck triumphantly.

Nanny Ashtoreth was convinced that once the boy had left their sight, he poured all the biscuits onto the ground and rolled in them. He might even have taken of his T-shirt and rubbed the clothes as well.

“Where were all the crumb then?” Aziraphale asked, later that day when they were in the bookshop. “If he rolled in them, there must be some crumb stuck to his skin, or hair.”

“He removed them of course, with great care. He’s the antichrist, remember?”

After they reached home, the duck settled down in the garden, as if it were his own home. Warlock turned to the much annoyed angel and demon, who still can’t overcome the fact that they were outwitted by a 6-years-old, and made the important announcement of the day:

“Since you two like to read me Bible, I decided to give him a biblical name. I’ll call him Gabriel.”

The duck stayed, because the name was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proof read this time, (only once though) because there were awfully lots of typo in the last chapter and it's frightening. I think I edited it twice or thrice? Hope I fixed them all this time.


	4. Advice of the mortals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are making up lies to tell Mrs. Dowlings so they won't get fired. They worried to much though.

The three of them hurried into the house. It’s three thirty. Mrs. Dowlings normally returned home by five.

“Now, Warlock, it’s very important that you listen to what I said.” Brother Francis started while walking into the door. 

“Door frame!” Warlock yelled.

“What?” Brother Francis asked, while knocking Nanny Ashtoreth’s foot into the door frame.

Warlock cringed. The two adults looked at each other in confuse. Finally, the nanny let out a cry of pain before too late.

According to Brother Francis, they were in a state of top emergency. If they couldn’t sort it out before Mommy returned, he wasn’t dare to consider the consequences. He was worried sick. Warlock doubted that, perhaps Brother Francis never did anything bad, once he commits a crime he would make sure nobody noticed it. 

The first one was easy to deal with, Brother Francis washed Warlock clean to get rid off the smell, meanwhile Nanny Ashtoreth sat on a stool and walked through the story with everybody.

“Where did the duck came from, Warlock?” Nanny Ashtoreth put on Mommy’s voice.

“It’s Gabriel, and he flew here himself.”

Brother Francis cracked up and dropped the shower head. The water showered into the air and fell onto them like rain.

Thirty minutes later, Warlock was all fresh and clean. They sat together in the living room, asking each other questions in Mrs. Dowlings’ voice.

“Why are you all wet, Brother Francis?” Nanny Ashtoreth asked.

“Because,” Brother Francis thought hard. “It was raining today?”

“No, it didn’t. You’re a terrible liar, angel.”

“Why are you all wet, then?”

“I was washing Warlock, naturally.”

“ _ I _ was washing Warlock.”

“Why were you washing Warlock then, Mr. Gardener? Shouldn’t you been in the garden?”

They settled on the answer that Brother Francis ran into the range of auto-watering machine while chasing Gabriel. It took them a while to convince him, because Brother Francis was going to stick with the real answer.

The sprained ankle one was a bit tricky, though.

“Why did you sprained your ankle?” Brother Francis asked.

“Because she rolled down the stair?” Warlock suggested.

“But why?”

“Because I stepped into a lego piece?” Nanny Ashtoreth offered.

“Don’t blame it on me.” Warlock protested. “Maybe it’s because you didn’t watch your steps, because you were looking at Brother Francis through the window.”

“You were looking at me?”

“I never did!” Nanny Ashtoreth protested, but then Warlock stared at her. “Well, yeah, because you were chasing Gabriel, and that was so hilarious that I rolled down the stairs. Worth it, though.”

“Oooh.” Brother Francis smiled happily.

Later, Nanny Ashtoreth asked:

“Could it be because I was chased by a moth?” 

“No.” Warlock said.

#

They were rather worried that Mrs. Dowlings would question them what  _ exactly  _ happened, because they haven’t straightened out the details yet, and Mrs. Dowlings looked always so keen and sharp. However, it turned out that what they really should worried about was Warlock talking too much, because once Mrs. Dowlings returned home, Warlock dashed into her arms and told her everything happened that day. It was his first time lying to Mommy, so he was particularly excited and eager to perform, he even told her about the frog he caught in the morning when there was no need. (“You set a frog free in the house? No one ever see it again?”) 

But all the childish babbling successfully distracted her, in the end she didn’t question much and simply give them an early day off---Nanny Ashtoreth for the sprained ankle, Brother Francis so that he could help her home---and asked them to rest well for the weekend.

“I’m really sorry about Gabriel.” Brother Francis said. “It seems that I can’t get rid off him.”

“Well, I suppose goose is better than insects or reptiles. As long as it stays in the garden, it would be fine. Warlock always wants a pet, anyway.”

“Gabriel is a duck, not goose.” Warlock protested.

“Is it?” Mrs. Dowlings playfully pinched Warlock in the nose. “Well, aren’t you a smart boy?”

“Can I let Gabriel into the house?”

“No.”

“But some dogs might chase him, or some cats.”

“It’s a wild duck. It’ll take care of itself.” Mrs. Dowlings said firmly. “Brother Francis. Before you and Ms. Ashtoreth left, would you be so kind as to catch the duck for me? I want to take it to a vet to make sure that it’s healthy.”

“Sure, Mrs. Dowlings.”

“Alright, Warlock, go help Brother Francis. I’ll get a box for it.”

With a “Yes” Warlock dashed out the door, followed by Brother Francis.

“Alright.” Mrs. Dowlings said to herself. “I think there’s a box...FROG!”

Mrs. Dowlings screamed and immediately pointed at somewhere beside Nanny Ashtoreth, who, actually frightened by the sudden scream, jumped into the air.

“Where is it!” Crowley looked around in panic, searching for the green tiny figure. Is Hastur still spying on him? What had he saw this time? Then a thought struck him: Hastur would find out that he was bluffing, if they don’t dissect Gabriel. The thought was so weird it made Crowley shuddered.

But then he saw the big smile on Mrs. Dowlings’ face, and he knew there was no frog.

“I know a sprained ankle when I see one. I sprained my ankle twice. I’m an expert on sprained ankle!” She proclaimed proudly.

_ Of course you do. _ Crowley thought weakly. He was glad to find she’s not angry.

“Sorry for lying to you, Mrs. Dowlings, but I can explain.” Nanny Ashtoreth said.

“Did you fake it so he had to carry you? Cause I did the same thing to Thaddeus, but it was because I was a little angry, and my feet hurt.”

“Uh...” Nanny Ashtoreth managed.

Mrs. Dowlings sat down by her side.

“Would you mind me calling you Ashy? Cause everyone called you so.”

“No, Mrs. Dowlings…”

“Harriet, please.”

Things escalated quickly.

The two of them weren’t very close. They were friendly, of course, but they were not familiar with each other. Nanny Ashtoreth tried to maintain the image of a strict and professional english nanny, while Harriet Dowlings was always slightly alerted around other women, especially those who has a sense of fashion, but she loved the style of Nanny Ashtoreth. That was part of the reason why she hired her, because she looked so cool and classic.

Despite all that, she never chatted with her, but tried to keep herself as haughty and queenly as possible, partly because that’s what Nanny Ashtoreth looked like. She would be surprised if she knew that Nanny Ashtoreth was actually a little scared of her, because she was a bit scared of her, too.

Things should have continued on like that, but every women was at heart a little bit gossipy. Sorry about the stereotype, allow me to fix that: Everybody was at heart a little bit gossipy. As long as the subject was right, gossiping was a lot of fun, and Harriet considered gossiping to be a great way making friends. Plus, when it came to romantic affair, people of same sex should always help each other out. It’s law. 

“Are you trying to hit on him, Ashy? You two are very close.” Harriet asked, but the look in her eyes suggested she already decided the answer. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“You know, we are just friends.”

“Don’t be mad at me, but truth be told, I think you could do a lot better than that.” Harriet peeked out the window, making sure Brother Francis was still chasing the duck. “But what am I to say? Love is blind. Make sure to dress him in better clothes though, and take him to a barber.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, thinking about Aziraphale in his Victorian suit.

“I don’t know. The way he dresses…... It looks as though he’s worried…... that someone might not know he’s a gardener.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Crowley chuckled, then remembered _ her _ self. “Seriously, we are just friends.”

“Just friends?”

“Well, best friends forever?”

“Nothing lasts forever.” Harriet gave her a sharp look. “Everything came to an end. For instance, you two might not work here forever.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I thought you know.” Harriet was surprised. “Warlock is about to go to school. A year later actually. After that, well, that’s when your employment ends, I’m sorry, but that’s why you have to seize the opportunity. It’s now or never.”

They talked a bit more about Warlock. Harriet complained about the usage of smartphone. She’s wondering what’s the proper age for a kid to have one. (“He’s already asking for one, but I don’t want him to be wearing glasses so young. It looked rather nerdy. But he told me all his friends have one. What should I do?” ”You must be firm, Harriet, and I’m sure not all his friends have one.”)

After Brother Francis and Warlock finally caught Gabriel, Harriet stuffed him into the box to be take to a vet later. She winked at Nanny Ashtoreth when watching Brother Francis carried her onto the driveway then into a cab. 

#

In the cab, Crowley thought about what Harriet Dowlings said.

_ Nothing lasts forever. _

Crowley never gave the phrase a second thought, that was simply a short phrase written and passed on by mortals, which he was not. Of course nothing lasts forever. Things changed. Actually things on Earth changed quite a lot, not for the past six millenia, but for every single day. Humans were like mayflies. They are like sparkles of flame. The shooting stars. They live and die everyday. Life is so precious that they spared no efforts in marking the history with their own existence, so they could live on, in memories.

And it’s beautiful. It’s like firework.

_ But nothing lasts forever, even Earth itself.  _

Crowley had always be so sure that everything is under control, that everything would continue on, that the plan would success, that he had never considered the alternative. What if they fell to avert the Apocalypse? What if the Earth was destroyed? He can’t go back to Heaven, but he didn’t want to go back to Hell, either. 

For the first time in his life, Crowley understood what it’s like to be mortal. It means loss. The loss of youth, the loss of home, the loss of families, and friends…...

“It wouldn’t come to that, Crowley dear.” Aziraphale had said after Crowley shared some of his thought.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not.” Aziraphale hesitated. “But best not to dwell on the things we can’t handle. We focus on the thing we could do.”

Crowley was not satisfied with the answer, so he decided secretly: If the Apocalypse do come, he would commit himself to remember every detail of the existence of the Earth, so its habitants would live on, in his memories, as they did in the past. 

But those are the memories of so many lives once lived, so many songs once sang, laughters, picnics, dining at the Ritz…...all the good time together, he and the angel. What if Aziraphale wasn’t there so he could share it with? 

They are on two opposite sides. There’s no way both of them could survive if Amargadden breaks out.

What good are memories, then? They are just bitterness and tears.

They are near the bookshop now. It’s getting late. Red and blue neon light of Soho nightclub shone through the car window. Aziraphale looked tired from all day’s work, but he also looked happy and content. Crowley remembered what Harriet said, and slowly, he leaned in just the tiniest bit, for fear that the angel might notice, and for fear that he might not. He remembered the warmth of the angel’s arms when he was carried into the cab, then it occurred to him that that would be the last time the angel had to carry him.

_ I know nothing lasts forever, everything change, but I will survive it, as long as you remained the same, forever, for me. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I read the book before the series, I used to believe that what make Crowley and Aziraphale friends was their love for the earth and mankind. That's also right with the series, but I just can't get over the fact that Crowley want to go to Alpha Centuri. I mean, I thought you loved Earth??? But then I accidentally read a tumblr post by kedreeva explaing that Crowley was trying to break through the system, while Aziraphale was trying to stay within the system. Then it all make sense to me. Breaking system is definitely a Crowley thing. I think that's where the last part of this chapter came from.  
Love you guys! Hope you like it!


	5. Chocolate and Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discuss what they should do if the Armageddon do break out, and Crowley decided to carpe himself diem, but the angel is the only one who actually have any gut to do it.

The taxi driver watched in disbelief, as two man, one of which was definitely a woman and a nanny before, left the car and walked into the bookshop. The driver shrugged off his doubt. These two man were weird as hell anyway. A moment ago they were even talking about the Armageddon. What does the word even mean, anyway? He drove away.

“Glad to be myself again.” Crowley said while stretching his arms. “But Hell, these pants are fucking tight.”

“Really? I thought you rather enjoyed a change in costume.” Aziraphale unlocked the door.

“Sure I did. Hadn’t wear a dress in centuries, but these pants are something new. Have to wear them until they went out fashion.”

They went in the shop, and Aziraphale changed back to his normal outfit. They sat down in the backroom, each with a cup of hot cocoa in hand. (“I don’t want hot cocoa!” “But I already made it.”) When they finally sat down, Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and asked:

“So, what happened today?”

“Well, a friend of mine had dropped by.” Crowley told him the whole story. 

Although Crowley tried not to make it a big deal, Aziraphale could still sense his discontent.

“It’s alright, my people seldom appreciate my work here, too.” Aziraphale pondered. “Michael even said that although it’s well done, it’s still doomed to failure.”

“No way. What a bastard.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale shook his head. “Uh, I meant that he did say that. Not that I agreed ‘yes he’s a bastard,’ which he is most definitely not…...probably? Personally I made no comment on that part.”

Crowley chuckled. He realized that he was babbling.

They both agreed that Hastur was no threat, since even Down There wants to replace Crowley, there’s no other suitable choice. Crowley told Aziraphale that his employment will end in a year, and they have to come up with new cover, and what Harriet Dowlings thinks of smartphone. An hour later, there’s nothing new to discuss, so Aziraphale brought up another topic, which they had already discussed a thousand times, but just to make sure everything was alright, Crowley agreed they should go through the details again, which turned out to be just fine, as it did a thousand times before, and they were satisfied. Aziraphale then brought up another topic, again, and they discussed some more, until the angel decided that he should ask him to stay overnight, because it had became too late.

As Crowley lied in the sofa, watching TV series online with his phone, (It never occurred to them that there was no wifi in the bookshop, and Crowley never paid for the internet.) Aziraphale was reading in the comfortable armchair, but he wasn’t actually reading. He’s thinking about what Crowley had asked in the taxi:

_ “Angel, what if we fail to avert Armagaddon?” _

_ “Best not to dwell on the things we can’t handle. We focus on the thing we could do.” _

And that’s truth, but Aziraphale was not satisfied with the truth, either. He’s all too aware of the fact that, once Armageddon breaks out, only one side would prevail, thus only one of them could survive.

Aziraphale shook the thought away and tried to focus on the novel. There’s nothing to be done, but is it so, though?

He looked back on all the days spent with Crowley, the more he got to know him, the more he was surprised. He especially adored the way he treated children, no matter it’s when God brought about the Flood in Noah’s era, or it’s now the way he treated Warlock. He may be cynical towards God, but he’s always full of love towards children. How could he possibly fall? And all the temptation he had helped Crowley with, why didn’t that make him fall? There were too many questions. Now even Hastur considered Crowley unfit to be a demon. 

Maybe there was some mistakes in God’s divine plan? Who’s there to say that he’s wrong, when it’s all ineffable?

“Crowley?”

He was wearing earphones and didn’t notice him. From the occasional chuckling, it seemed that the TV series were quite interesting.

“Dear?” He raised his voice.

“Hmm?” Crowley took off the earphones. “Yes, angel?”

_ Hang on a moment. _ Aziraphale stopped. _ You can’t just go up to people and ask why had they fallen. _

“It’s a rather, well, important, even a little _ sensitive _question.” No, he shouldn’t ask at all.

“I’m all ears.” 

Crowley said with a voice so lay back. He had kicked of his shoes, and was now curled in the sofa, wrapped in a tartan blanket, sipping hot cocoa. Aziraphale just couldn’t bring up his mind to destroy his good mood. 

“Nevermind.”

“Well. Spill it out.” Crowley urged. “I’m curious.”

“Uh.” Aziraphale looked down at his hot cocoa. Quick, come up with something. “Do you like the cinnamon in hot cocoa?”

Crowley gave it due consideration.

“Not really. I only like them in the carrot cake.”

“But I put cinnamon in the cocoa.” Now Aziraphale was confused.

“Did you?” Crowley frowned. He took another serious sip. “But I couldn’t taste it.”

“Let me.”

Aziraphale went over and took a sip of Crowley’s cup of hot cocoa.

“There’s definitely cinnamon.”

“Really?” Crowley took back the cocoa and sipped it again. 

“You don’t know what cinnamon tastes like?”

“Well.” Crowley protested. ”Because I only drink hot cocoa when I’m here, and it seems that you have always put cinnamon inside. So I just assume cocoa tastes this way.”

“That’s just ridiculous.” Aziraphale said. “I didn’t know you like carrot cake, though.”

“I invented the carrot cakes.” Crowley said absent-mindedly, he’s going back to the phone. “Because I hate carrots, one of God’s most horrible inventions. Even yeling can’t improve them a bit.”

“True.” He agreed eagerly, not quite understanding what Crowley was saying. Does he mean that he yelled at carrots?

Still, he had to come up with another approach.

“Turned out I like cinnamon, though.” Crowley said a while later. “But, what were you going to ask me?”

Shame. Aziraphale sighed.

“You asked me, what will happen if Armageddon still break out.”

Crowley sat up straight. He put on the serious face, gathered the blanket into a ball and put them on his lap to show the angel that he had all his attention.

“It would be so much easier, if we were on the same side.”

No one spoke. The words hung in the air. Then Aziraphale realized he had spoken the truth.

Tears filled his eyes. He just never realized how much he want it, until now the words were spoken, and he knew that they would never came true. Not forever.

“No, no, don’t.” Crowley knelt down at his side. He put the blanket onto his knees and pat his lap. “It’s alright. We are on our side. That would be enough.”

“Don’t be silly, Crowley. There are only Heaven and Hell, and humans choosing between them. There’s no our side.”

“Well, that kind of spirit certainly won’t do.”

Despite the tears, Aziraphale smiled.

“So I was thinking, what if…...”

Crowley suddenly tensed and looked up at him.

“You are not thinking about to fall, are you?”

He had his glasses off, the pair of golden eyes twinkled in the dim yellow lamp light like amber, and they are full of concern and love. _ How could he fell? _Aziraphale asked himself.

“No, rather, I was thinking, if you want to come back to Heaven.”

Crowley tried to rise, but Aziraphale grabbed his shoulders, then he fell on his knees as well. Now the words are spoken, he had to say them all:

“I’m so sorry, but I just can’t believe that you’ve fallen. There must be something wrong, if you agree, I’ll ask Almighty herself to see what we can do. Trust me, once I talk to her———”

”But she won’t listen to you.” Crowley said softly. “She never talks to anyone, and her plans are ineffeble.”

“No, it’s not like that.” The horror nearly suffocated him. “It will work, as long as you trust her.”

Aziraphale looked up at him with a desperate hope, but Crowley’s expression was clouded with melancholy. He shook his head. Aziraphale could feel his tears welling up again.

“Why did you fall, Crowley?”

“Because I ask too much.”

“And what’s that?”

_ I couldn’t tell you all the questions I asked, all the doubt I had, and why I had finally stopped believing in her, because I want you to believe in her. I need it. I want your mind to be free of those worrying and unsure. I don’t want you to end up like me, fallen. _

But why _ me _ ? What had I ever done to deserve _ this _? He asked God.

The God remained silence. Another question unanswered. Talking to God feels like talking to oneself.

“Whatever.” He finally said, looking up. He must not cry. (He forgot that he had cried, a lot, during the day.)

“You are dodging the question.”

“Whatever.”

“Then I’ll fall.” Aziraphale snapped. “I’ll still have a word with her Almighty, only this time I would ask her nicely if she would banish me. I believe once I have a proper word with her------”

Crowley cracked up, tears finally rolled down his cheeks. 

“You don’t ask for God’s permit to fall.”

He had never seen Aziraphale so angry, and the idea was ridiculous. He wiped away the tears. “Now I have full confidence in you that only when Lord Beelzebub should grow an inch taller would one of your feather turned black.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Do you demons always talk about your superiors like that?”

“No, not really.” Crowley rose and helped the angel to his feet. “But we do have many fancy words for God. For instance------”

“Thank you, I don’t want to know.” Aziraphale smiled, sadly. “Well, if you are content with the status quo, promise me.”

“What?”

“Remember me, if your side prevail.”

“It will never come to that. I promise you.”

“You don’t know.” 

“You are just being pessimist, but actually, the situation is better for us.” Crowley said cheerfully. “We can seek asylum for each other no matter which side shall prevail, so it’s important that we should stay on opposite side, _ and _it’s the only way we could get all the information and stop the Apocalypse”

_ And there’s always the star. _

They smiled, and suddenly both felt embarrassed from all the crying and laughing. Aziraphale picked up the book from the ground and folded the blanket.

“Here.” Crowley passed him some kleenex.

“Thank you.”

Crowley watched him dabbing his tears away. The eyes were getting a bit pinkish, making the blue eyes even bluer. He suddenly felt like to kiss them. He knew that humans kiss. It’s a way of showing affections, and now feels like a good time.

Normally he would just wait and lose the opportunity. He couldn’t say what he was waiting for. Maybe he just want to take it slow, because there’s eternity waiting before them, and they had all the time in the world. But now the end is nigh, who could tell what’s waiting for them? Warlock is six, there’s only five years left now, for immortal beings it felt just as quick as a blink. For the first time, Crowley didn’t want to wait.

_ Now or never. _So the mortals say.

It could really be _ never _.

Crowley took a step forward.

“Aziraphale?”

“What, dear?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley seldom called him by his full name.

“How would you like to, uh.” Crowley tried not to look flustered. “I mean it just occurred to me that we’ve never, uh.”

Aziraphale walked up to him. He looked tenderly into his eyes, concerned. Crowley began in panic again:

“Do you think it’s possible to, I mean, human do it as well, it’s like eating or drinking, if you’re wondering, uh.” He ended the sentence, with another _ uh _. He’s about to die. “Yeah, that’s it. You know, uh.”

Crowley took a deep breath. He should just do it, anything is better than the nonsense he’s saying. Gingerly, he reached out a hand, but it just hovered an inch from the angel’s cheek. Aziraphale pressed it onto his face and caressed it.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Aziraphale beamed. Crowley felt the angel’s another hand resting on his shoulder, playing with his red curls. His breath started to tremble. Just when Aziraphale was about to start, Crowley drew away.

“Wait a moment.” He ruffled his hair and hurriedly left the backroom. Aziraphale followed and found him standing in the middle of the bookshop. The curtains were all drawn, so it was quite dark. He stood next to him.

“Maybe we should wait.” Crowley said, in the end.

“It’s no big deal.” Aziraphale comforted him. “Human do it all the time, you said. It’s very easy.”

“All right, all right.” Crowley said when Aziraphale tried to hold hands with him. “But in the backroom.”

Before going back, Crowley quickly went to the front door and checked that it was locked. He walked back coolly like nothing had happened, Aziraphale was doing his best not to smile.

“Alright dear, now sit down here. Don’t move.” Aziraphale said merrily, and he quickly pecked the lightest kiss on Crowley’s head. Then he cupped his cheeks and pecked another one quickly on the lips. 

“Has it ended already?” Crowely asked.

“Mmm. See. It’s not that hard.”

Crowley, who closed his lips firmly, with his eyes shut all the while, finally breathed.

“It’s not what I read in the books, though.” Aziraphale frowned. “I thought it would be different.”

“You read it in the books?” Crowley asked breathlessly.

“Yes.” Aziraphale blushed. “I always thought it would be more…...passionate.”

Then he sat down by his side on the sofa. There was a while of pondering. (For Crowley, panicking.)

“I got it.” Aziraphale clapped his hands. “Let’s do french kissing. That would be fun. I read it in _ Gone with the Wind _.”

“But we are not french.”

“We are not human, either.”

Crowley wanted to run away, but he was trapped in the softness of the sofa and the angel’s arms. Maybe he didn’t quite want to run away, not when Aziraphale was pressing against him so warmly. He grabbed his red hair and kissed him deeply. He could only lie backward, not knowing where to put his hands.

“Open it.” Aziraphale touched his lips.

Crowley did as he was told. Aziraphale tasted of hot cocoa and cinnamon. And grass, and earth. A moment later, he broke away.

“I can’t breath.” Crowley panted.

“We don’t need to breathe.” Aziraphale muttered into his neck and kissed him there.

The touch sent electric shock though his body. It hurt. It’s dizzy and it’s great. It amazed and frightened him.

“No, stop.” Crowley struggled up and grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulders. The angel looked mesmerized. His blue eyes were burning. 

“What’s happening?” Crowley asked. He had never felt anything like this.

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale leaned forwards again. “I suppose it’s what kissing is like.” 

Crowley felt hot breaths by the ear. It’s tickling and exciting.

He started to giggle when Aziraphale nibbled at his ears, and he kissed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter.  
Thank you for reading it. Hope you have a good laugh. Leave a comment if you have the time. I am so curious of what you think. I always think that I have problem writing anything that's a bit serious. (like crying or kissing, but maybe it's just I have to practice.)  
It's been fun writing this. I thought I would write more stupid stuff they did with Warlock, but I ran out of idea, and I wanted to write the ending kissing scene so much, because it's so adorable, so I just ended it.  
By the way, I reread what I wrote, and some sentence was hilarious: "The little Warlock had spent his day in the garden exploring the garden." It happened at the very beginning. And all the various spelling of Armageddon...... I'm so grateful for those who read on.  
As for the chapter name, I just think they're sweet, and since they appear twice in two different situation. So. It doesn't really make much sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I only started to read and write fanfic after I watch Good Omens, and I have to say everyone on this website is amazing. So it will be my 3rd fanfic if I could finish it. Any advice is most welcomed. And thank you for reading it. <3


End file.
